Momentarily Dreaming
by Foxie
Summary: Fantasizing in the shadows is easy when the subject of your desires doesn't know about your existence. A+Y {YxA}


~ Momentarily Dreaming ~  
  
A/N: This fic is based on Toni Braxton's song 'Spanish Guitar', but I didn't want to write this one as a songfic. This is a one-shot, has no background story whatsoever, so you just have to use your little imagination if you want there to be one.   
  
A+Y {YxA}  
  
Changing POVs, starts with the insides of Aya's head.   
  
___________________  
  
I'm pleased with my dark hideout in the corner of the cafe. It offers me a chance to look around without being noticed by the ones my eyes follow. I don't know what told me to come here. Maybe it was just the fact that the streets were a little too silent and that the heat from the afternoon did not stay for the evening and a chilling wind took it's place. Maybe there is no reason.  
  
I hear applauds from the crowd and turn my eyes to the stage a little below the corner I'm sitting in. The night's entertainer has stepped to the spotlight and sits down to a chair with his guitar. As a silence settles among the people he sits quietly for a while longer and then lets his guitar do the talking.  
  
I take a sip from my wineglass and try to keep my eyes away from the figure below. He is beautiful beyond belief, but I know he is just another opportunist seeking for a chance to reach fame. They always start out from cafes like this and disappear after the crowd is pleased. I can't help but to smirk when I realize it; they aren't much different from whores. Amusing, it is.   
  
No matter how I try to keep my eyes away from the slender figure, I can't help but to turn and to look at him. I follow his fingers, admire the way he plays. He is not just playing the song with his guitar, he is loving the instrument, caressing it with such tenderness I haven't even been able to imagine. The guitar is not his instrument, but rather a lover he wants to take good care of.   
  
He raises his gaze up and for a moment I imagine he is looking at me. I look into those deep green eyes and feel I am ready to melt. Or at least ready to run down and drag him into some very private place and have my way with him.   
  
No, he is not looking at me. Why would he be? He is just giving a flirtatious look to the drooling ladies he knows the crowd is full of. Not to me. For that fleeting moment when I thought he had his eyes on me, his gaze only passed by. Of course, he is a good entertainer, knows exactly what the people want. The people. Not only one of them. He lives for his audience by his beloved instrument.  
  
I am playing with my now-empty wineglass and watching the small reflections of light the material has upon it. Not being able to help myself, I close my eyes and see the beautiful guitarist. I can see how he looks at me, the same tenderness in his eyes that played upon them as his fingers caressed the strings. I take a step towards him and feel him taking me into his embrace, kissing me, loving me. The night dedicated only to us and to the song he is playing.  
  
A pause in the music snaps me away from my fantasies. I look at the musician again and see he has only stopped playing to receive the cheers from the crowd as his first song has ended. I beg inwardly that he would never stop playing. I need nothing but the music he can make come out of the piece of wood and strings in his arms.   
  
Does he know there is someone watching him? Not watching because he is the artist but because someone wants him?  
  
To my relief, he waits for the silence to fall and starts playing again. The song is calm, yet it has quite the opposite effect on me. I fall back into my imagination and let the music consume my soul, my entire being. It generates a scenery into my head and pictures him and me into it.   
  
His fingers caress my face and his lips follow. I am nothing but a melting lump of ice in his touch and even though I want to fight back, I can't. There is something in this musician that holds me still and makes me accept the love I've been given.   
  
~  
  
I recognize that look in his eyes as he lets his gaze fall down to me. Even though I see him only from the corner of my eye, I know exactly what he is thinking. He wants me, wants me more than anything.   
  
I smile to myself. The music I play has apparently quite the right effect on my audience. There are few women I know would do anything to be my instruments for the night, but the truth to be told, I have something else in my mind.  
  
Every now and then, just to tease the man in the corner a little, I lift my gaze and allow a suggestive smile towards him. I say towards, because I don't point it directly to him. I know it's my distance that fascinates him. He wants the mysterious guitarist, not the straightforward fortune-seeker.   
  
I pretend I know nothing of his existence. I pretend I don't even care.   
  
He wants the Mr. Hard-To-Get.  
  
~  
  
I can almost swear he looked at me. That smile on his lips was so inviting that I wanted, again, to stand up and to run down to him. I had to tell myself off, anyhow. Just like a whore, he is paid to make people believe. Entertainers are there for other people's amusement and to make their audience feel that they are friends with the one on stage.   
  
Audience pays to be made believe. Why bother worrying about the reality, when for a one fleeting moment there is a chance to settle down into a good fantasy?   
  
He is a non-paid entertainer, I realize. He makes the audience believe only because he himself enjoys it. Maybe he is asked to come and play again if the proves himself to be good, and that is the only wish for tomorrow he has.   
  
He is free to feel whatever he wants. Free to do whatever he wants. Free to play with whomever he wants.  
  
I lift up my glass again, only to see it's still empty.  
  
He starts to sing softly. Perhaps 'to sing' is not exactly the right phrase, however. His words are more like a soft whisper than a melodic song.   
  
"Te sientas entre la gente, cierras tu ojos," he whispers and I shiver. His eyes are focused on mine and he seems to be talking to no one but me. The words, even, are exact to what he sees from down there.   
  
~  
  
I can't help but to tease the redhead a little. The look in his eyes, when he obviously recognizes my words, is priceless. It is a mixture of surprise and relief with a tiny bit of frustration added in to the mix.   
  
To see if his skills are enough to understand further, I continue my confession.  
  
"Y sueñas que soy tuyo," I tell, and by the way he leans forward with his chin supported to his palm and his sharp eyes focused on me, I know he understands.   
  
Now I want to see confusion in that face in the dark and therefore I turn my gaze away from him, knowing that even though I'm not talking directly to him he will hear me.  
  
"Pero yo no siquiera se guestas ahi."  
  
~  
  
He is playing with me. I'm sure of it, now. He knows I am here and he sure as hell knows I am watching him. My imagination runs free creating pleasant images of him and me in silky sheets under the pale moonlight I know will come through the window of my hotel room, tonight.  
  
I make up my mind and stand up. Before I make my way towards the stage I leave an amount of money I think might cover the glass of fine red-wine I drank. Confident with my steps, I pause just before I reach the stage and lean to a column that either supports the roof of the cafe or is just put there for the atmosphere.   
  
He smirks and plays the final note. Then, with the same soft, whispering voice he spoke with before, he says: "Me gustaria tenerte mis brazos amor."  
  
Now he is certainly looking at me.   
  
~  
  
There is a hint of a smile on his face as he crosses his arms and raises his eyebrow. Damn, he figured out my game. Totally my fault, since I misjudged his intelligence. I should have known better not to.   
  
At least he got the message.  
  
I wait for the applause to end, act a humble entertainer for a while longer and pick up my guitar. It's time to say hello to my most dedicated fan.  
  
~  
  
There are no questions asked, when he walks to me and puts his free arm around me. I give him an amused smile and look into his eyes.  
  
"You have an odd sense of humor, Yoji," I inform him.  
  
"I know," he admits and plants a soft kiss on my forehead. "Sorry I miscalculated your brainpower, Ice Queen"  
  
"Forgiven," I say and pull his forehead against mine.   
  
"Your room or mine?"  
  
~* Fin *~  
  
Fluff. Since when have I begun writing fluff?   
  
The Spanish bits are from the same song mentioned in author's notes and the translation (Thanks to my dear friend Bunny for it! ^^) goes something like this:   
  
"You sit in the crowd, close your eyes and dream I'm yours. But I don't even know that you are there. I wish you were in my arms."   
  
I trust that Bunny translated it correctly.  
  
Reviews appreciated. ^^ 


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